


Healing Touch

by taylorgibbs



Category: NCIS
Genre: BDSM, M/M, Xanthe, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-08
Updated: 2011-08-08
Packaged: 2017-10-22 09:52:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylorgibbs/pseuds/taylorgibbs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their lover is viciously attacked, Tony and Gibbs look for a way to help him. But Nick has some tricks up his sleeve</p>
            </blockquote>





	Healing Touch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Xanthe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xanthe/gifts).



> Thanks to tejas for the beta, Kate for the pre-read and the girls on twitter. They know why :)
> 
> Written for Xanthe and commissioned by Alicia. Special thanks to Alicia for letting me post this. Xanthe, I hope you like the cameos and I hope the fic makes you smile!
> 
> Loving BDSM found within. Consider yourself warned.
> 
> This is a snippet and part of an overall fanfiction that was commissioned by Alicia called Three for The Show. A sneak peek can be found here:http://taylorgibbs.livejournal.com/91260.html If you can't see the link, it is the May 5, 2011 entry in my live journal, which is this pen name dot livejournal dot com.
> 
> The overall story is still a WIP, and the pairings are Gibbs/DiNozzo, Tony/OMC, Gibbs/OMC, Gibbs/Tony/OMC. I've tried to structure this snippet so that you won't need to have read the WIP, which is at over 130,000 words and counting *grin*. It'll be posted when it is a bit closer to being finished.
> 
> What you need to know is that Tony and Gibbs no longer work for NCIS. They live with an actor named Nick, in New York. Nick is in his fifties and if you imagine Pierce Brosnan, graying at the temples, you have Nick. Tony and Nick became involved first, followed by Gibbs a few months later.
> 
> The characters have a specific vision and their BDSM scenes are not for everyone. This is their expression within the parameters of their loving committed threesome bond and is not meant to be anything but that. Please don't consider this as a BDSM primer.

Tony walked into the living room of his Long Island home, knowing something had to change soon or he could lose everything he had. Everything had fallen apart and he wasn’t sure how to fix things, or if they could be fixed. Or if he even wanted them to…

Tony shook his head, barely holding back is growl. He wanted this. He needed this. They all did.

Tony looked over at Nick before exchanging a look with Gibbs. Tonight had to help them all get through this. It wasn’t natural seeing Nick so quiet, his eyes so troubled. They hadn’t planned for this, hadn’t expected that in this day and age, anyone would jump Nick. Why would they? While Nick still acted part time, he wasn’t drawn to the blockbuster roles. He picked the quirky little roles so he wouldn’t have to stay in the spotlight. While his coming out six months ago had generated some press, people had been generally respectful. Until now.

Nick’s bruises were fading, but there was an innate wrongness in this. Nick shouldn’t be the one hurt, shouldn’t be the guy nursing bruises. He was an actor and an artist; he didn’t have a high-danger job like Gibbs and Tony had for many years.

Tony’d let his guard down and he wouldn’t forgive himself for a long time. Last Tuesday, after Nick had finished his performance at the Longway Theater, he’d gone to get the car. With Gibbs heading security on a job in Long Island, Nick hadn’t wanted to stay in the city overnight and have Gibbs in their bed alone. Tony hadn’t thought there would be a problem; the theater employed their own security guards, and they had the routine down pat. Nick and the other actors would come out the stage door, sign autographs for a few minutes, and then he’d leave with Tony.

But something had gone wrong. Nick had taken longer than expected backstage, talking with a reporter. He’d told Tony to meet him down the block in twenty minutes, and Tony had been waiting there, idling on a Manhattan street. It had taken him a full fifteen extra minutes to realize something was wrong.

When he’d found Nick, stunned, bleeding, bruised, Tony had wanted to kill something—or someone. Nick’s reticence to report the attack, and the fact that nothing had been taken—his cherished Patek Pilipe watch with the engraving that said “Love always, R” was still on his wrist, his wallet was still in the pocket of his overcoat, his belongings intact-- had told their own story. Only when he was back at the house, shaking, had Nick confirmed to Tony that it had been a hate crime. Nick had shared what had happened with him and Gibbs, but had told them—not asked, but told them—he wasn’t reporting it. He had no interest, he’d said, in becoming tabloid fodder. Gibbs had argued the point, but Nick’s firm stance and unbending attitude had finally forced even Gibbs to pull back. The theater security had been informed, but they’d been asked—ordered—to be discreet.

It had happened ten days ago, and Nick was clearly struggling. His silent moments were growing, the easy conversation that Tony had with Nick was non-existent, and he’d spent most of the time in his studio—with the door locked. That was a Gibbs thing and not anything Nick ever did. It wasn’t right and it wasn’t them. They had to act, and Tony thought he’d hit on the right idea. The only trick was getting Nick on board.

Their lover was reclining on the large sectional sofa, a neighbor’s cat snuggled under his arm. Jemima was visiting while their neighbor—a British best-selling author named Liza Skinner—was visiting some English castles, as well as spending time with her family. Jemima and her brother, Harley, had settled in for their vacation well. Harley was batting a catnip-scented ball around, lost in his own bliss, while Jemima seemed to sense Nick needed some extra feline love and attention.

Nick was absently petting her and staring at the ceiling, his expression unreadable. For a man with such life in his every movement, it was shocking—and scary. Tony stared into Gibbs’ eyes, needing the grounding Gibbs’ looks always provided, and the other man angled his head slightly, subtly, not that Nick was watching anyway.

Message received, Bossman. Old habits died hard; Tony still thought of Gibbs as “Boss” some days, even though their time at NCIS was in the past. They were lovers now, two thirds of the most exciting thing in Tony’s life. And they needed to do whatever it took to pull the last third out of this depression or funk, or whatever it was.

“Hey, Nickster,” Tony began, moving the cat and sitting in her place. Jemima, spoiled princess that she was, walked in a slow circle before settling on Tony’s lap, nose in the air. It was a damn good thing he loved these cats, because pet sitting for Liza could be an interesting experience.

“Tony.” Nick’s voice was low now and there was an exhausted edge to it. None of them spoke about it, but Gibbs and Tony knew Nick hadn’t been sleeping much—if at all. There were shadows under his eyes and he looked older than he usually did. He lay still in their bed, too still, too stiff and unyielding. It was possible he might have drifted off after they did, but Tony doubted it. And Nick was out of bed before both of them, even Gibbs who religiously sprang out of bed at oh six hundred.

“I want to go out tonight.” This was the critical point. He had to make it sound as if it was spontaneous and not at all planned. Nick wouldn’t handle it well; Tony knew his lover needed to have some control here.

Nick angled his head, interest sparking in his gray-blue eyes. They lit briefly before Nick allowed them to shutter. There was hope there, but Tony had to go so slowly. “Okay,” Nick said quietly. “You and Jethro have a good time. I’ll be in the studio or asleep when you get home.”

“That’s not what I want,” Tony replied in an even tone. He rarely pressed an issue like this, but it was important.

“What then?” Nick asked. He stiffened when Gibbs settled in beside him, not saying a word but touching Nick thigh to hip.

“The club. I want to go to the club.”

There was a definite flare in Nick’s eyes now, and it stayed steady for almost a minute before Nick doused the flames, the life dimming from them.

“Jethro can Dom you.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want him to. I want you to Dom me, Nick.”

Their roles had been very firmly established in the time they’d been together. Nick was the ultimate Dom, controlling them with a firm, yet gentle, hand. He’d even tamed Gibbs, which Tony would never have considered a possibility before seeing the two men together. While Gibbs could—and did—Dom Tony sometimes, he seemed to enjoy the freedom of submitting to Nick at times too. And Tony…he had no interest or desire in upsetting the balance or even pretending to Dom either man. It wouldn’t be authentic. Maybe someday they’d do a scene and he’d play, but they all knew it wouldn’t be for more than a fun change of pace. Sometime in the distant future.

Anyway, he loved submitting to Nick—the pure pleasure of diving into subspace and putting his ultimate trust in his lover. Nick had never let him down, and Tony remembered that. It was freeing for him. And this time, he hoped it was just as freeing for Nick. Putting his lover back in his Toppy role might help him regain his equilibrium. At least Tony hoped so.

He used a Gibbsian tactic to wait Nick out, batting back the parts of his thought process that demanded he babble. It wouldn’t do. Nick could be a methodical thinker, especially when he had something this emotionally intense to work out. And Tony babbling wasn’t going to do anything but make himself feel better. It wouldn’t help Nick at all. It was one of the things about himself that Tony had learned from Nick. One of the many things. Tony didn’t need to babble just to fill the silence, and he didn’t need to wear masks to hide his true self.

“You need me to Dom you?” Nick asked, his smooth voice a little gruff.

“I do,” Tony admitted. It was the God’s honest truth.

Nick nodded, clearly still deeply in thought. Tony watched him, fingers twitching with the need to touch his lover, mouth tingling with the force of keeping his pleas back.

“What about you?” Nick turned his gaze to Gibbs, who shrugged.

“Don’t need a scene right now, Nicky.”

“Do you want to Dom him beside me, or be on your knees with him.”

Tony couldn’t miss the way Gibbs winced, though the other man tried to hide it. Some days, Gibbs' knee was almost in former fighting shape and others, his limp was very pronounced.

“Maybe you and Tony should do this one alone?”

No, that was not part of the plan! Tony shot Gibbs a dark look.

“All of us or nobody at all,” Nick replied, and Tony let out a slow breath. At least Nicky was coming on board.

“Co-Dom,” Gibbs replied authoritatively and Tony shivered. He’d only been co-Dommed a couple of times, but they’d been memorable experiences. He couldn’t help smiling as something occurred to him—something that could blow all their minds.

“Can I pick the scene? The toys?”

Nick nodded, looking curious all of a sudden. “Great. What time to we leave?” Tony asked, consulting his watch. He had a few things to do before they went to the club.

“Eight,” Nick said, glancing at his watch. “Be showered, light cologne and deodorant only. None of that lipgloss you favor when we go out.” He turned to Gibbs. “All in black?”

“I’ll pick his outfit, Nicholas.”

Tony shivered, goosebumps coming to the surface, his cock twitching. This was gonna be a hell of a night.

“Go do whatever you need to, Tony,” Nick said, his voice gently indulgent. “We’ll see you later. I’m going to the studio now. Door will be open if either of you want to visit.” Nick gave them each a look, and Tony knew they’d taken an important first step to healing their lover.

 

~*~

Nick was waiting in the living room at a quarter to eight. Both Tony and Jethro had been scarce most of the day, and Nick had appreciated the alone time. He’d worked hard on a sculpture of a lion he’d had trouble with. It had taken all afternoon and part of the evening, but the mane was finally perfect. He’d put in a good, long day, and he was really to relax with his boys. He’d showered in the studio, dressing there as well. He hated tracking paint flecks or other material through the house.

Nick rolled his shoulders and tilted his neck from side to side, getting the kinks out. He’d been holding his tension for the last week and a half, not wanting to alarm Jethro or Tony, and he realized it was taking its own toll on him. Maybe tonight, he could find his way back to his confidence, and thus, his way back to his boys. Even though it hadn’t been a long time since the attack, Nick knew that the more he retreated from his lovers, the harder it would become to connect with them.

And he wouldn’t screw this up. They’d had a long and difficult road getting here, but together they’d flourished. He was so happy to be with these wonderful men, and he would not be the reason it all fell apart when they were just getting started as a relationship.

Nick had given them a lot of thought as he’d worked on his lion, a sculpture he felt embodied both his men. Jethro’s courage and Tony’s loyalty. Their nobility and pride. He was a lucky man, and he knew it.

Tonight wouldn’t be easy, but Nick was ready and prepared to do what he had to, in order to get back on an even keel. Embracing his Dominance would be a good first step. Domming these two had become natural to him, and even if he didn’t completely feel the part, he could effectively act it until it became real to him.

Jethro came into the living room first, and Nick looked him up and down, smiling as Jethro crossed the room, standing in front of him. He was dressed in dark colors, a designer charcoal shirt open at the throat, a few silver chest hairs curling out, a pair of black pants framed his body beautifully, and the black boots he wore made the outfit look complete.

Nick took all of this in with long sweeps of his eyes, unable to hide his smile. Jethro had been resistant to wearing designer clothes initially, feeling as if his Sears and Penny’s wardrobe suited him. But Nick and Tony had gradually inserted more button downs into his wardrobe, more dress pants and Italian leather shoes. And over time, Jethro had begun wearing their selections, not every day, but often enough to please Nick and Tony.

The club was very exclusive, and Jethro had to know that his normal chinos and polos would make him stand out there—and not in a good way. He’d dressed for the occasion and Nick thoroughly approved.

“Very nice,” Nick said, resting his hands on Jethro’s shoulders. “You do me proud.” He leaned in, brushing a gentle kiss over Jethro’s mouth, a hand stroking through the back of Jethro’s hair.

A little flush colored Jethro’s cheeks, and Nick couldn’t help smiling.

“Missed that,” Gibbs remarked offhandedly, the tension around his eyes easing.

“I know,” Nick said quietly. “It’ll be better. I’ll be better, Jethro.”

“We’ll make it better,” Gibbs insisted, his own hands on Nick’s face now. His hand stroked over the healing bruises, and Nick stayed still, eyes locked on Jethro’s, some of the tension in his chest breaking away. Even the most Toppy Dom sometimes needed to be cared for, and he realized just how much he’d been shutting his boys out as he’d been trying to get through this alone.

“What are we bringing?” Gibbs asked, motioning to the study off the living room. That closet had been locked and converted to a toy area.

“Let’s pick some things together,” Nick offered. As usual, Tony would get to choose one implement, his Dom or Doms the rest. They went through the items together, Nick holstering a handmade flogger, made of deerskin. It was something he only used for special occasions, but this one was one of the most special he could imagine. Jethro had one made of cowhide, that delivered a harder sting. They’d play off each other very well and would give Tony a night to remember.

“Ready for this?” Gibbs asked, and Nick could sense there was an effort in keeping his voice casual. Nick glanced over, meeting Jethro’s eyes briefly, looking away, and then sighing and meeting his lover’s eyes steadily. There was no reason to hide here. The boys knew he’d been struggling; they just hadn’t said much, allowing Nick his privacy…and his dignity.

“I am,” Nick assured. He’d banish his worry and nervousness for the night; he simply had to get through this and heal. The boys needed their Dom to have his equilibrium, both in and out of the scenes. Nick knew he was a steadying force for both Tony and Jethro, and he wasn’t interested in changing up their dynamics. They each had a role in the relationship and each role was defined based on their needs, both collectively and individually. They worked perfectly as a unit.

“Good,” Jethro said after a few moments and then he wrapped his arms around Nick. He wasn’t usually the most forward, demonstratively, of them, and Nick sighed at the contact, his arms coming around to hug Jethro close. He wouldn’t thank his lover, that wasn’t something Jethro would accept even now. And Jethro had opened up so much since Nick and Tony had found him on their doorstep, injured, despondent, alone. But they still had a ways to go with him.

“It’ll be okay,” Nick said quietly. This was the first night he’d acknowledged what had happened, and it was just safer somehow with Jethro. In the pecking order of dominance, Jethro, while not his equal, wasn’t as beta as Tony. Or as young. Age did matter in Nick’s mind, even though he tried not to let it impact him too much. Maybe it was that he’d been trained by a man older than himself, mentored, loved, when he’d been Tony’s age and his lover had been Jethro’s age.

“Yeah. Gonna be fine.” Jethro’s voice was warm and gentle and Nick allowed himself to fully sink into his lover’s embrace, sighing and settling in, a feeling of safety and well-being coursing through him. Instinct told him that his lovers would be there for him, emotionally and physically, whatever happened. Military training told him the same. He was safe in every way with these two, He was the nurturer, didn’t play the nurtured role all too well, but right now it was bliss to have this man’s arms and voice surrounding him.

When Nick heard Tony’s footsteps, he pulled away, giving Jethro a small smile full of thanks. It wouldn’t do for him to actually verbalize what he was feeling. They weren’t “feelings” guys and even though they’d learned to talk more—and better—than they had in the past, they weren’t a bunch of girls and didn’t interact on that level.

“You ready?” Gibbs asked, his voice quiet but still carrying through the room. Tony’s footsteps stopped and Nick tilted his head, allowing a small smile to form. He could just imagine Tony standing the other side of the door, his head cocked as he listened and planned his entrance, pent-up energy coming out as he was in constant motion.

“Yeah, I’m good, Jethro,” he said, his voice ringing out strongly, confidently. He could and would do this. He’d bring his A game to this night and regain the equilibrium that he’d been lacking.

When Tony walked in, Nick’s breath caught. Jethro’s stuttered as well and they moved in closer, their shoulders touching, rubbing together. Nick started breathing evenly first, looking Tony up and down, his cock already hard and aching.

“Tony…” Nick moved closer, extending a hand to brush over Tony’s cheek. He’d gone all out tonight and Nick sure as hell liked the result. A faint rim of emerald-green eyeliner made Tony’s eyes look even more vibrant, if that was possible, his lips moist from what Nick assumed was constant lip licking. The thin dark green t-shirt clung to his shoulders and abdomen like a second skin, bulging over biceps much more developed than they’d been when he’d first come to Nick a year and a half ago.

And the pants. Nick tried to reach for some composure, had to force calmness through his body with every ounce of self control he still possessed. The lace-up leather pants bulged at the crotch, the expensive, hand-cut and crafted Italian cowhide molding to Tony’s every bulge and curve. Inky black, they formed perfectly to Tony from crotch to ankle.

“Turn around,” Nick said, injecting a note of command into his voice. He met Tony’s eyes and absorbed the smirk from the other man as Tony nodded. He knew damn well he’d be punished for that later, Nick realized, allowing his own smile to break forth.

When Tony turned around, Nick could only stare. His lover—their lover, he reminded himself—had a great ass on the worst of days, but these pants made it look incredible. “Jethro, look at our boy,” Nick said, allowing the reverent tone to creep into his voice. “We’re going to be envied by everyone there tonight.”

“Damn right,” Gibbs said, coming up beside Nick. “But he’s ours and they’ll all know it.”

Tony had an easy—almost effortless—magnetism about himself, and it was showcased in the way he moved in that getup. Nick knew that Tony was aware that he could walk down any street in any major city and have his pick of men and women, but he’d chosen them, and they’d chosen him. And there was such a rightness about the three of them together.

“Jethro,” Nick said, motioning him toward Tony’s front, even as he moved in, a hand gentle against Tony’s spine. Nick stroked downward, enjoying the feel of the brushed cotton, so thin it might as well not be there. Though Nick approved of Tony wearing a shirt rather than being bare chested, even if the shirt showcased rather than hid Tony’s musculature. He wasn’t going to tolerate strangers—or even friends—ogling what was his. Not without a damn good reason. And Tony was his—theirs.

Just as Jethro moved closer, Nick extended an arm, and Jethro pressed against Tony just as Nick did, his hard cock nestling against Tony’s ass.

“God!” Tony groaned, his hips pressing outward and then back, rubbing against both Jethro and Nick. They clasped each other’s biceps, sandwiching Tony tightly between them. It had been a position that Nick had used on both the boys—Jethro when he was having nightmares of the accident that had nearly killed him, and Tony whenever he seemed to need extra comfort but wasn’t able or willing to ask for it.

Even though Nick wasn’t the middle of this…Tibbs sandwich as Tony had named it, he knew it was for his benefit as much as it was for his boys. He rested his chin on Tony’s shoulders, breathing an easy stream over Tony’s jaw, neck, and ear.

“Remember who you belong to, Tony.”

“You. Both…”

“Damn right,” Gibbs said, even as Nick chuckled.

“They can look, but if anyone touches you without my permission, there will be trouble.” Nick emphasized the “my,” making it clear that the pecking order started with him. It was the way they functioned, but it couldn’t hurt to remind Tony of that fact.

“You’re going to fuck me…later?” Tony asked, breathless.

“Maybe, if you’re good,” Nick teased, snuggling in further. Sexual arousal warred with the easy comfort and security he had in this position and he gave over to the needs of his soul first and foremost. His body would be sated soon enough; tonight the dry spell would be broken. In an explosive way, considering the sexual needs of the three of them and the fact that they hadn’t been involved sexually in almost two weeks.

“Maybe I’ll even let you get off in the club,” he finished, nipping Tony’s earlobe. The younger man groaned, thrusting against the two bodies bracketing him. “But we’ll see how good you behave and how good everyone else is.”

“I’ll be the best you ever had.”

There was something to the earnest tone of Tony’s voice that hit Nick in the gut. In the wrong hands, Tony could very easily be taken advantage of, his eagerness for acceptance and need to please perverted for someone’s sick agenda. Nick was just happy Tony was with them, in arms that would protect him, with Doms who would never take him beyond his limits or use him for their own needs.

“You are, Tony,” Nick assured, brushing his cheek against the other man’s. “You’re the best, most amazing lover I could have dreamed up.” Nick met Jethro’s eyes for a long moment. “Both of you. Thank you.”

He wouldn’t say any more than that. They were astute men and knew what he was saying, and what he couldn’t voice. “I love you,” he finished in a whisper.

“We know,” Gibbs assured, leaning in and kissing first Tony’s forehead and then Nick’s. We gonna be girly all night or we gonna let Tony pick his toy and get this show on the road.”

Nick grinned, secretly thankful to Jethro. They didn’t do emotional well, and they’d probably all had their fill for now. As he broke away, he squeezed Jethro’s biceps firmly. They didn’t have to talk or be girly to convey their emotions.

He watched as Tony moved to the closet and their toys, eyeing one thing and then another. The tails of a flogger slipped through his fingers, then his hand ran over a cock cage, a small smirk playing over Tony’s mouth.

When he reached in deep and snatched something in a decisive move, Nick wasn’t altogether sure what Tony’d grabbed. Then the other man turned around and Nick had a full view of the item. And he got harder, if that was possible.

“The hood.”

Nick wasn’t sure which of them had said it. His mind was completely blown with the thoughts and images that hood was bringing to mind. Tony and Jethro knew the significance of it—all of it, the clothes, the hood.

“My god.” That was his voice, reverent, aroused, tender.

“From that story I made you guys read. Two Wolves. The guy was kidnapped and made to do these gladiator type contests,” he reminded, though Nick was very aware of the reference. He’d devoured the story right alongside Tony and Gibbs. In one pivotal scene, the hero had been confronted by his soon-to-be lover and friend, who’d been presented to him hooded in a fighting ring.

Though their circumstances were vitally different, the story had been about the hooded man healing his lover, and the hope coming from a dark place. “The hood,” Nick repeated. “Perfect.”

Tony nodded, smirking. He leaned in to give Nick a teasing kiss, and then turned and delivered the same to Gibbs. “Are we going to the local place?”

“No.” This was Nick’s one little surprise for the night. “There’s another place. I have a membership there. Very exclusive, discreet.” He focused his gaze sharply on Tony. “Very exclusive clientele. People who don’t need to be identified, or even directly referenced. You’ll be hooded, but you can see and…”

Tony’s eyes widened fractionally and he nodded. “What kinds of people?”

“People like me,” Nick said. That was all he’d give Tony at the moment. His Tony was savvy enough to connect the dots.

“Got it,” he said firmly, bouncing onto the balls of his feet. “Actors?”

“Possibly politicians, sports figures, musicians, maybe even actors,” Nick allowed. “But you don’t react, Tony. You don’t gush and you don’t react. They deserve discretion. Just as we do.”

“I know,” Tony assured, giving Nick’s hand a squeeze. “I’ll be down so low that I wouldn’t know if George Duncan or Ian Jeffries walked by me.”

Nick gave his younger lover the ghost of a smile. Both A-list actors had been members in the past, and in good standing. As a part-owner of the club, Nick had access to the member roster, as well as being able to get Tony and Gibbs past the rigorous screening procedures that even guests of long-terms members were forced to experience before they were cleared to visit the club. This was a facility that took the privacy and discretion of its members very seriously.

He’d never considered bringing them to the club before Their local club was very discreet and allowed them fo play-space nearby . It didn’t hurt that Nick had a small financial interest in it as well. He’d diversified well and owned parts of many businesses, some of which he was personally, as well as professionally, invested in.

But it was the right place for this—large enough that their threesome would be noted, but not so large that they’d be invisible. And it was the perfect place—the only place—this could occur.

Nick glanced at his watch, nodding. “Ben will have the car ready in five. Have a drink, relax.” With that, he strode out of the room, needing to regain his equilibrium before he and Jethro took Tony down. This was going to be one hell of a night.

~*~

Tony watched Nick leave, his spirits starting to fall. Had he pushed too hard? Sometimes he was unsure of his function in the relationship. Hell, of the entire relationship. It was still a new living thing, changing and transforming by the moment. Some days, Nick was all in control, and others Nick was laid-back and Gibbs was in control, though none of them outright verbalized it. Tony was never in control and didn’t want that role. He was blossoming in the role of being their boy and didn’t want or need more. This was more than enough for any mortal man.

He shot a glance over to Gibbs, who was pouring some expensive bourbon into some tumblers. Gibbs approached, handing Tony one. While the other man swallowed his in a couple of gulps, Tony sipped his.

“He is going to be okay, Gibbs?”

“Will be,” Gibbs said, a firm nod of his head. “He’s getting his head back on, Tony. He needs tonight, and by the end he’ll be back to normal.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.” Gibbs pulled him closed, big, strong hand cupping the back of Tony’s head. Tony sighed and relaxed into the touch. “Help him if he gets lost. I’ll do the same. It's what he’d do for us.”

“I know,” Tony allowed. He arched his neck, pressing into Gibbs’ hand and sighing as the other man began stroking the soft hair at his nape. This was something he’d missed over the past couple of weeks. The touches hadn’t been there, and Tony needed them. Maybe even more than Gibbs and Nick together did.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Gibbs soothed. “We’re okay, Tony. Gonna be back to normal starting tonight.” His blunt fingers lightly scratched over Tony’s scalp and Tony had to concentrate to not to sigh and rub into the touch, and he really wanted to.

Tony sighed, allowing all the thoughts and worries to drain out of his mind. While this wasn’t subspace, it was a good start, a good way for him to focus his concentration inward and still his body so that when the Domination began, it would sweep him away.

“Hedonist,” Gibbs remarked, depositing a gentle kiss on Tony’s mouth. “You ready to let Nick do whatever he wants with you tonight?”

“Oh yeah. It’s Nick. Nothing bad will happen to me.”

“You sure?” Gibbs responded, and something inside Tony twisted, almost rearing up before Tony beat it back. Sometimes his old insecurities threatened to take hold.

“Positive.” Tony was; he trusted these men with his life—and his soul. “If Nick gets unsure, you’re there to help him through. But I think he’ll be fine. He’s probably outside pacing and channeling his topmost Top.” Tony took another long sip of his drink, the bourbon burning down his throat and warming his stomach, much as loving these men did.

“Good. Let’s make him proud tonight.”

“On it, Boss.”

It took over ninety minutes to get to the club. Tony sat between Nick and Gibbs in the limo. They rarely used a driver or a limo company, but Tony didn’t complain. While Nick wasn’t the white knuckled, hang on to your seat driver Gibbs was, it was nice to be driven for a change. He enjoyed sitting between his guys, absorbing their body heat, the gentle ease they had, the silent language only they could understand.

Nick sipped some water from a heavy crystal tumbler, his hand possessively resting on Tony’s knee. He was perfectly still otherwise, and Tony could tell Nick was getting into his own headspace for the night. Nick had a different intensity to Gibbs; whereas Gibbs was all stormy, assertive intensity, Nick tended to be more even-keeled and still, silent but not brooding.

Their intensities complemented each other’s, Nick’s no less forceful even though it wasn’t a dark. When they were both at their Toppiest, Tony couldn’t think clearly. Breathing took almost too much effort. The two of them together was amazing, and Tony was vibrating at the thought of them taking him together, sharing him, co-Domming him.

“Enough,” Gibbs snapped, yanking the hood out of Tony’s hands. He realized he’d been twisting and turning it in his hands for…god knew how long. And as usual, Gibbs had broken, Nick the steady presence. There was a comfort to this, a clear indication in action rather than just words that things were slowly approaching normal.

“Jethro.” The authoritative tone in Nick’s voice sent shivers skittering up and down Tony’s spine. There was no doubt who was the overall Dom. Not when Nick started talking in that voice. He didn’t even need to raise it; the tone was enough to have Tony—and Gibbs, though Gibbs would never admit it—shivering.

“The Gibbs Whisperer,” Tony muttered. It was one of his pet names for Nick and usually elicited at least a smile. This night was too serious for that, but Nick’s hand tightened on Tony’s leg briefly and he huffed out a sound that could have been a chuckle.

Beside him, Tony felt Gibbs’ body relax, then the hood was draped onto his thigh. Before Tony could start fiddling with it again, Nick took it, placing it on the seat beside him, away from Tony.

Tony winced but shrugged it off. He’d come a long way from the guy with a thousand masks, the guy who wouldn’t let anyone in, though he reverted to old comfortable habits sometimes.

“Go inside yourself, Tony. Center yourself. Give us that.” Nick’s voice was soothing and gentle. Tony sighed, rolling his shoulders and closing his eyes. “Do you need the hood right now, son?”

“No.” Tony wanted to experience the car ride as he was falling down of his own volition, not because sensory deprivation had forced him into it. That wouldn’t be fair to Nick or to Gibbs. They deserved his best.

“Tell me if you do.” Nick’s thumb tapped out a rhythm on Tony’s thigh, gentle touches that grounded him. Tony allowed his eyes to fall shut, the tension leeching out of his body slowly. His breathing slowed and he began to empty his mind, his entire being focused on the warmth of Gibbs’ arm against his side, and Nick’s hand on his leg. It was so good. They were so good to him.

~*~

Gibbs could pinpoint the exact moment when Tony surrendered his mind—and moreover, his soul—to his Doms. There was something different to his expression, face softening, his expression changing in some small way that made him look much younger and more innocent.

“There you go. Well done, Tony,” Nick said, his voice barely more than a soft whisper in the car. Gibbs could feel himself responding to the Dom inside Nick as well, before he resolutely pushed that away. This wasn’t the night for him to fly alongside Tony; this was a night where he’d be Nick’s second in command.

Gibbs had never thought he’d surrender to anyone. He was too alpha, too in command and control of his own environment. He needed that in his post-military life. When he’d come to Tony and Nick, he hadn’t known what he needed from them. Everything had been torn apart—Kate, the explosion, his knee. A part of him had longed for what Nick had offered, the safety and security to allow Gibbs to fall apart in those first horrible hours.

Gibbs hadn’t banked on a relationship for a long time; even though he’d been married to Stephanie, he hadn’t put any faith in that. It’d been doomed from the start, just as the two marriages before it had been. There was no way to recreate what he and Shannon had, no way to bring them back.

Maybe that was why he’d settled into this relationship so easily. Being part of an all-ale threesome wouldn’t have even registered on his radar before the explosion. A lot of things wouldn’t have registered then. Hell, he’d always imagined keeping his team intact for a lot of years. Instead McGee was the only active NCIS agent, working as Balboa’s probie and doing a bang-up job of it from all accounts.

Gibbs closed his eyes; he had to bat these thoughts away and focus on being a damn good Dom, assisting both Nick and Tony. While this was for Nick, Gibbs knew they all needed to reaffirm their structure and strength as a group. And he’d give Nick his all—it was the least he could do. Nick had done the same for him countless times in their time together.

“Ready?” Nick asked softly, and Gibbs realized they’d glided to a stop in front of an elegant home. He watched as Nick turned in his seat, addressing Tony.

“Yes.”

“Safe word?”

“Magnum.”

“Limits?” Gibbs put in.

“No breathplay, no scat or golden showers. Nobody but either of you disciplines me. No humiliation. No…punishment.”

There was a hesitation there, one that Nick picked up on as well as Gibbs. He could see the other Dom’s expression change, a look of concern flitting across his face.

“You have done nothing that needs punishment, Tony.”

“Let you…left you.” The edge of pain in Tony’s voice caused every muscle in Gibbs’ body to tense.

“No, Tony. I sent you for the car. You had nothing to do with this.” Nick’s voice had never been firmer, though he managed to convey tenderness and compassion along with command and control.

“Neither of us blame you,” Gibbs assured. “You did nothing wrong, Tony.”

“Okay,” Tony whispered. In unison, Gibbs and Nick stroked their hands through Tony’s hair. He responded best to touch and sighed, pressing into their hands. “I didn’t screw up?”

“You didn’t,” Nick affirmed. “Come on. Let’s get inside.”

With a nod to Gibbs, Nick slid elegantly out of the car, hood held lightly in his hand. The driver stood off to the side, watching as first Tony, then Gibbs, got out. Gibbs flexed his knee once, checking for strength and stability, before looking at the place they’d been brought to.

It was an estate, clearly more than a mere house, even mansion. Gibbs eyed it, the Hudson gleaming darkly in the moonlight behind it. There were several Town Cars, Jaguars, and even a couple of limos in the large driveway, the house set back a couple hundred yards from the road.

Gibbs took in the surroundings, the lack of neighborhood lights, and tilted his head toward Nick. “Pretty isolated?”

“Very. Over forty acres on the Hudson, no neighbors for miles in any direction.” He motioned to the house. “And over fifteen thousand square feet inside, with some outdoor play areas as well.”

“Nice,” Gibbs observed. It was a hell of a lot more than that, but he couldn’t wrap his mind around it. “How did you find this place?”

“Arcadia. It’s called Arcadia.” Nick’s expression turned wistful for a moment. “Someone very special introduced me to it when I was about Tony’s age. I’ve been a member ever since.”

Gibbs wanted to know more, but he wouldn’t pry. If Nick wanted to share the story, he would.

“There are a few rules here,” he said, motioning Gibbs closer. When they were standing in a tight group, Nick spoke again. “First names or initials here. Don’t say hello to someone by name, let that person tell you what his name and title are. Don’t speak to a submissive unless given permission. There is a limit of one glass of wine or bottle of beer every ninety minutes. We don’t stock anything stronger.”

Nick’s use of “we” was interesting and Gibbs wanted to know more. He arched a brow, unable to believe that any establishment could be that precise, wondering exactly what Nick’s connection to the place was.

“These people will surprise you, Jethro. There will be food laid out. Feel free to eat whatever you like, Jethro. Tony, if you’re hungry, you’ll take food only from our hands. I’m going to allow you to go inside unhooded. Get your bearings and tell Master Jethro and me when you’re ready to be hooded. And above all, do not acknowledge anyone you may recognize in there. They’re people just like us who need the anonymity of such a place. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Master.” Tony’s voice was quiet, though it traveled through the stillness of the night.

Gibbs nodded, his curiosity growing. He glanced off to the side as another car pulled in next to their limo, a gorgeous blonde stepping out. Gibbs wasn’t much of a movie and TV guy, but even he recognized soap actress Fiona Wright, famous for her role in As the Bullpen Turns. Two young women stepped out after her and Fiona clipped a chain to one’s neck.

Gibbs gave Nick a faint smile. This night was getting more interesting by the moment.

“Inside then,” Nick said, folding the hood and tucking it into his pocket. They walked to the house, Tony a half step behind them, and entered just after Fiona and her group.

“Master Nicholas! Welcome, Sir! We’ve missed you!” a man greeted them, a bright smile on his face. The guy was maybe Tony’s age, his wispy blond hair and weak chin giving him an innocent look.

“Hello, Drew. Its good to be back,” Nick clasped the man’s hand. “Drew, I’d like to introduce you to Master Jethro. He’s my personal guest tonight. I trust you’ll see to any needs he may have.”

“Yes, of course, Sir.” The man extended a hand to Gibbs, who shook it firmly.

“He’ll be with me and ours for the night, but it is conceivable he might have a need for anything.” Nick smiled faintly then.

“Tony is also my guest tonight. No breathplay, no body sports, no humiliation, pain delivered only by Master Jethro or myself. Anyone else may…” Nick turned, looking Tony up and down. “Sample him, if Master Jethro and I agree. Ensure that my friends are made aware of this and will be waiting for us in the usual place.”

“Certainly, Sir. Are you certain you wouldn’t like a private room? Does Master R—”

“No. We’ll do this in the games room,” Nick said, expertly cutting off the other man, whose eyes widened.

“Very well, Sir. I’ll have the staff instruct anyone who expresses interest where to find you. Would either of you care for a drink?”

“Merlot for me. Our best, Drew. Master Jethro?”

“Just a beer. Anything American.” One beer would help loosen him up and relax him. This environment wasn’t completely comfortable to him, wasn’t even anything approaching their usual club. This place was head and shoulders, hell full body, above any place Gibbs could have imagined.

Nick motioned him into a room, wing chairs, comfortable sofas, and adult sized cushions strewn around the room. A huge stone fireplace was inviting, and Gibbs smiled when Nick led them to a grouping of two chairs, a cushion between them.

“Sit down, Tony. You’ll kneel later.”

Tony dropped onto the cushion, stretching his legs out, hands in his lap. His head fell forward slightly, a few locks of hair tumbling over his forehead.

Nick motioned around the room with an expansive hand gesture, and Gibbs took it all in. There were maybe forty people here, a mix of couples and groupings. Some submissives were clearly down deep, while others seemed to be almost at the surface. Doms stood and sat in groups, many sipping their drinks, a few dressed in cocktail outfits, more in suits and shirts or dress pants for the men, skirts and dresses for the women.

A small percentage of the guests were in more obvious fetish wear and they blended seamlessly with the more traditionally dressed up men and women. There was kissing and light petting going on, but no hardcore scenes in this room, though Gibbs imagined he could hear the swish of tails and the thwap of paddles against skin echoing in the distance.

“Elegant,” he remarked to Nick.

“We try.”

There was that “we” again. Gibbs arched a brow, but Nick didn’t say any more, so Gibbs merely twitched a shoulder, the best approximation of a shrug he was willing to do here.

“We’ll relax for a little while and then we’ll take Tony deep. I have several friends who will like sampling that mouth of his, not to mention his hard cock.”

Gibbs knew he should be feeling possessive rather than turned on, but he couldn’t help it. They played at clubs, sometimes with other partners. For a protective man like Gibbs, the idea had been crazy, but the first moments he’d seen another Dom feeding their sub his cock, arousal had exploded through him. He didn’t know how he’d gotten to the realization, but Gibbs liked sharing their boy in these circumstances. As long as it never went beyond the club. Tony belonged to them and them alone.

“You have right of refusal,” Nick added. “If there’s someone you don’t want touching our Tony, just say the word.” Nick’s hand dropped to Tony’s hair and he stroked it a few times. “And if you don’t feel comfortable with someone, you have permission to tell us without using your safeword.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“We just want you comfortable,” Gibbs put in, resting his hand atop Nick’s, squeezing gently. He glanced over at Nick’s face, glad that the bruises had faded, the yellowish tinge staining Nick’s skin, but not pointing obvious markers to what had happened to him. And yet Nick moved around this place like he owned it, his confidence and natural Dominance coming out even though they’d do this scene as equals.

“Sirs?” A man in a tuxedo came over, a silver tray in his hand, Gibbs’ beer and Nick’s wine. “Amuse Bouche Merlot 2008, Sir. Our best Merlot. And a Sam Adams for Sir.”

“Thank you,” Gibbs replied, taking the frosty glass in hand and sipping it slowly. There was something to be said about beer poured into a chilled glass, though he’d always be an ice bucket kinda guy. And his tastes ran more toward Bud than Sam, though this wasn’t bad at all.

Gibbs glanced around the room, trying to look at the place objectively. Nick was somehow associated with this place—an owner maybe, or had some sort of financial stake in it—and that changed the way Gibbs observed the patrons and the activities.

He smiled at the sight of a petite redheaded tennis player that even he knew, and the way she’d brought a hulking guy to his knees with a snap of her fingers. Gibbs had seen the muscle-bound guy before, but he wasn’t sure where.

“Famous wrestler,” Nick said in an undertone, as if he’d read Gibbs’ mind. “And she plays tennis.”

Plays tennis was pretty mild for someone who had won a Grand Slam last year, the first woman to do so in many years. Gibbs and Tony had watched her defend her title in a tournament a couple weeks ago.

A man sat at a baby grand piano, his elegant fingers moving over the keys. It was clear he was damned good at what he did, and Gibbs relaxed, letting the music wash over him. His eyes drifted closed, hand still linked with Nick’s on Tony’s head. It was quick work for Gibbs to center himself, and he concentrated on breathing deeply, finishing the transformation to a Dom worthy of sharing Tony with Nick.

“I’m ready, Sirs.” Tony’s voice floated up to them and Gibbs opened his eyes, Nick’s hand withdrawing. Gibbs tousled Tony’s hair and stood in unison with Nick.

“To your feet, boy,” Nick said and Tony stood in a graceful motion, arms at his sides. Nick withdrew the hood from his pocket, shaking it out.

“Jethro, you can have the honors.” He handed Gibbs the hood and Gibbs examined it. Unlike the hood in the story they loved, this one had eye holes and an opening for the mouth. Gibbs stroked over the silky fabric.

“Hands behind your back, Tony,” he began, watching as Nick pulled out a pair of wrist cuffs from a pouch Gibbs hadn’t noticed, attached to his waist. The custom-made two inch wide lengths of sterling silver were gleaming. He fastened them around Tony’s wrists, securing them with a strong chain. Tony was already hard, pressing against the leather, his mouth slightly open, eyes hazy.

“You’re ours, understand? Ours. Others will get to use you, but you belong to us,” Gibbs said, speaking the words directly into Tony’s ear, “Say it.”

“Yours, Sir.”

“Forever,” Gibbs added. “You belong to Master Nick and to me. Don’t forget that.” As he brought the hood up, Nick moved into Tony’ field of vision.

“Safeword?” Nick asked.

“Magnum.”

“Slow down word.”

“Higgins.”

“Good boy.” Nick squeezed Tony’s cock, hand moving confidently over the leather, as Gibbs pulled the hood over Tony’s head and settled it securely, though not tightly, against Tony’s throat. Their submissive’s green eyes gleamed for a moment against the obsidian silk of the hood before the haze returned to them.

“Come.” Nick didn’t say more than that word, but it was enough for Tony—and Gibbs. He fell into step beside Nick, Tony a step behind them, and they walked across the hall to a smaller room. When Nick’s strides slowed, Gibbs turned to Tony.

“Knees, boy.”

Tony nodded, dropping to his knees between them. Just the image of Tony in that position was enough to harden Gibbs, and he could see it’d had just as strong an effect on Nick.

~*~

Nick took in the members of the room with a nod and a faint smile. Many of his friends from the lifestyle had an interest in his new submissive. It wasn’t as if Nick had played with a huge variety of partners here, and he’d rarely brought guests, so the curiosity factor was higher than perhaps it should be.

“Touch Master Jethro, boy. Show him you like how aroused your submission has made him. Hands only.”

Nick watched as Tony’s hands curved over Jethro’s cock and he squeezed and rubbed the other man through his pants. Jethro’s hands clenched into fists, but he stayed otherwise still despite the small sound that might have been a groan.

“Now me.”

Tony’s hands moved to Nick’s pants and he stroked lightly, fingertip running over the seam and lightly teasing. Even this gentle touch tested Nick’s self control. They were highly sexed men, even him despite being the other side of fifty, and they hadn’t been involved in a week and a half now. Nick hadn’t even considered jacking off, but now he wished he’d taken the edge off.

“Very good,” Gibbs said, hand squeezing Tony’s shoulder firmly. “Kneel quietly while we speak to these men.”

Nick smiled and greeted three men who had approached. Aaron and Julius were movie executives, while Keith was a major movie star about Tony’s age. They exchanged hellos and Nick was pleased to see Jethro settle in to casual conversation.

“He’s beautiful,” Aaron observed, hand resting lightly on his belt, his cock distending the fly.

Nick nodded, stepping slightly into their line of vision and evaluating them as men, as potential mild play partners for their boy. When Gibbs huffed out a small sound, Nick stepped back, allowing his co-Dom the floor. They’d share the duties with Tony this night, neither being the stronger force. This was about healing, not about the power fluctuation.

“He is,” Gibbs put in, hand dropping to Tony’s shoulder.

“What does he like?” Keith’s voice was smooth, gentle, his curly blonde hair giving him an innocent air that Nick knew was not the case at all.

“Touch him and find out,” Nick said, slanting a glance to Jethro and indicating that he should step away from their boy. Tony’s other Dom nodded, taking one step backward and releasing Tony’s shoulder.

“Thank you.”

Keith crouched down, hand on Tony’s chest. He was breathing hard, and Nick knew Tony recognized Keith, even through his relaxed state. Tony’d mentioned how good looking the actor was, how he looked more like a teenager than his thirty-something years.

“Pretty,” Keith observed, lightly pinching Tony’s nipples. Tony groaned, leaning into the touch.

“Sensitive,” Nick pointed out. “Master Aaron, Master Julius.” Nick indicated that they could join in with a nod of his head. Aaron pulled out his cock, brushing it over Tony’s mouth, pre-cum coating Tony’s lips. The stocky, dark-haired man had a blunt, thick cock and Tony’s jaw stretched, taking it in, Keith shifting to begin cupping and rubbing Tony’s cock.

Julius stood, looking at both men and finally joined in, pinching Tony’s nipples hard. He groaned around the cock, just as Aaron pulled out, panting. Nick angled his head and Aaron shrugged. “My submissive awaits,” he replied by way of an explanation, giving Nick a wink and patting Tony on the head. “He’s gotten me nicely warmed up though. Thanks, Master Nick, Master Jethro.”

Julius worked Tony’s nipples gently and their submissive began responding to the touch, swaying slightly into both touches, motions that were almost undulations. Nick brushed hip and thigh over Jethro’s.

“Beautiful, isn’t he. The way he submits for us. It’s a gift.”

“I know,” Jethro’s voice wavered and Nick nudged him with a shoulder.

“And when we get home, he’s ours. He’s ours forever, Jethro. Doesn’t that give you a charge right down to your soul?”

“Forever,” Gibbs replied, his voice much firmer, almost harder edged now. There was something in his background that brought forth this response, but this was neither the time nor the place for it.

The hairs on the back of Nick’s neck jumped to attention suddenly and he shivered, his cock aching and pulsing in his pants. Something—someone—had disturbed the room, and Nick knew exactly who it was.

“Steady, Jethro. Don’t act shocked,” he warned before a hand fell onto his shoulder, the presence and heat of his former teacher branding his back, his soul. Every nerve ending in Nick’s body jumped to attention and his cock jetted out a small stream of pre-cum, enough that Nick knew it would stain his pants. Julius and Keith stilled, Julius moving away, wide eyed.

“Master Richard,” Nick greeted as he turned. Richard Howe was movie royalty, still vibrant in his sixties, with thick silver hair and deep gray-blue eyes. Tall, thin, but still fit, he stood tall and proud, giving no indication of his years. He’d been Nick’s teacher, his mentor, Nick’s lover, the one who had gotten away. And he was the one man who affected Nick like no other.

Nick heard Jethro gasp as he recognized the other man. Richard had been the top American movie star for decades, and was recognizable to people of all ages and economic backgrounds. He was one of Tony’s idols, an actor who had directed, produced, and even taught some classes at NYU and UCLA. British born, raised all over the world, he was the picture of debonair, classy movie star, with a rugged look that brooked comparisons to Cary Grant and Sean Connery in the height of their fame.

“Nicholas, you’re looking well.” Only Richard could get away with calling him Nicholas, omitting the “Master.” He knew it wasn’t a sign of disrespect, just Richard’s way. As the club’s fifty-one percent owner, he had certain things he could slide on, especially with old lovers and cherished friends. Nick certainly wasn’t going to correct him.

“Sir,” he said, nodding, meeting Richard’s eyes. “I’d like you to meet Master Jethro.” His hand fell to Tony’s shoulder. “And this is Tony. And Master Keith,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

“Yours? Or do you share?” Richard asked, extending a hand to Gibbs’. Jethro looked at it for a moment before shaking it and saying a quiet hello.

“Ours,” Nick declared, his voice firm even though his stomach was churning.

Richard looked from him to Jethro and back again, a small smile on his face. “Is this a permanent thing, Nicholas?”

“As permanent as it gets.” Nick brushed his shoulder against Jethro’s. His lover and co-Dom nudged his shoulder gently and Nick couldn’t help but smile. Jethro had to know he was thrown, and was offering what support he could.

“The three of you…or the four?” Richard asked, and Nick blinked a few times before realizing that Richard was asking if Keith was a part of them.

“Just us three, Sir,” Gibbs put in. “Master Keith was just checking out our boy.”

“Oh, I understand now.” Richard looked at Keith and gave him a gentle, almost paternal smile. “I’d like to visit with an old friend and his family, Master Keith.” While the words were pleasant and spoken in a very non-confrontational tone, it was clear that Richard expected the other Dom to clear out.

“I understand, Sir. Thank you, Master Nick, Master Jethro. I hope I’ll get to…” Keith allowed himself to trail off, a light flush darkening his fair skin a dusky rose. “Thank you, Sirs.”

When he was gone, Richard placed a hand on Nick’s forearm, squeezing gently. “I’d like to visit with you and your boys.” He emphasized the word “boys,” making it clear that he was well aware of the pecking order in the relationship. “Private room, Nicholas? Keep him hooded. It brings back wonderful memories.”

Nick looked at Jethro, gauging his comfort level, trying to ignore what Richard had just said about the hood. He wouldn’t do anything that would make his co-Dom uncomfortable. When his lover nodded, Nick did the same, echoing both Jethro’s posture and movements. “We’d like that.” Tony seemed relaxed and sated for the moment, and Nick couldn’t imagine he’d have any complaints. He certainly wasn’t using his slowdown word. “Open door, others can watch. You’re just closer than the rest.” He eyed Richard for a long moment. “We’re not sharing, Richard. Not tonight. Not even for a man I respect and cherish as much as you. Understand?”

Richard’s eyes softened and he nodded, relaxing his posture slightly. “Of course, Master Nicholas. I won’t be an active participant. I’d just like to see.”

He didn’t finish the statement and didn’t really need to. Nick understood that Richard could tell there was something special about Jethro and Tony. He couldn’t fault his friend and mentor for wanting to know more, and it wouldn’t be an intrusion unless they all determined it was. He certainly wasn’t threatened and he doubted Jethro was.

“Stand, Tony,” Gibbs said, automatically reaching for the other man to steady him. Nick reached over as well, wanting his hands on his lovers, wanting grounding even though he knew he didn’t really need it.

Tony’s posture was relaxed and it was clear he was still under. He hadn’t even reacted to the presence of Richard. “Hands okay?” Nick asked. It had taken some time for them both to determine the best way for Tony to be bound. It wasn’t productive to take Tony down and then leave them all hanging because of badly timed shoulder or arm cramps.

“Yes, Sir. I’m fine.” Tony’s voice was soft and dreamy, eliciting smiles not only from Jethro and Nick, but from Richard as well. Nick curved a hand around Tony’s biceps, nodding at Richard to lead the way. The man took them to a room on the main floor, not so much private as a bit out of the way. A few groups of men and women lingered nearby, their curiosity obvious.

Nick angled his head toward a best-selling music star of the ‘80s, and an award-winning restaurateur before entering the room. Dark-paneled walls and shelves of books gave it a lot of warmth, and Nick approved.

He motioned to Jethro, giving his co-Dom a gentle smile. “Clothed or naked, your decision.” Nick was fairly sure he knew what Jethro would choose, and it was his preference as well. In a controlled environment, a room where Nick was between Tony and the door, he didn’t mind people eyeing his boy. It wasn’t nearly as exposed as the open areas of the club.

When Gibbs moved to Tony, lifting his shirt away from his abs shirt slowly, Nick nodded in approval. Richard dropped into a comfortable wing-chair, his gaze keen, concentration written in every line of his face.

As Tony’s muscular and lightly furred chest came into view, Nick couldn’t tear his gaze away. He watched as Jethro released the chain binding the cuffs, skimming Tony’s shirt off his arms, before attaching the chain again, the muscles of Tony’s shoulders and arms rippling.

“He’s beautiful,” Richard commented, crossing his legs. Nick could smell the sharp scent of the other man’s arousal, earthy, musky, yet refined, from across the room.

“He is,” Gibbs replied, his voice almost startling Nick. He was so used to Jethro being silent during scenes. Jethro had placed Tony’s shirt off to the side and angled his head to Nick. They’d worked this routine enough times that he was able to step right in, hand cupping Tony’s crotch.

“I bet he’s soaking through the leather,” Nick remarked to the room, aware of a few people gathering in the doorway. “I bet he’s drenched. Our boy leaks so much.” Nick rubbed over the leather, moving the buttery soft material over Tony’s cock, knowing he was causing friction that would heighten the experience for the other man.

“Who do you belong to, Boy?” Nick asked, punctuating his words with a couple of hard squeezes.

“You, Sir. You…and Master Jethro. You own me.” As always, there was a catch in Tony’s voice when he said that, as if he was still in a state of wonder over being wanted, needed, loved.

“We do. And we’re so proud of you, Tony. Remind me of your safeword.”

“Magnum.”

“Good boy.” Nick punctuated that comment with a squeeze to Tony’s cock. Jethro moved in as well, fingers working Tony’s nipples into hard points.

“What do you want from us?” Jethro asked.

“Whatever you want to give me, Master. I’m yours.”

“Damn right,” Nick replied. He glanced over at Jethro, the other man unholstering his flogger. The tails black, handle black and emerald, almost a perfect color match to Tony’s T-shirt. When they co-Dommed, he gave Jethro the gift of going first, of warming their boy up for Nick’s Dominance.

“Slow down word?” Nick asked as Jethro shook the tails out.

“Higgins, Master.”

“Good boy.” Nick reached for the hood, unfastening it and removing it. “They’re going to see how beautiful you are when you submit to us, Boy.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Tony’s pupils were blown wide, his lips wet, swollen. Nick had the feeling that Tony had spent a good deal of the afternoon biting down on his lower lip, plumping and swelling the flesh there. His hand drifted down to his own pants and the wet spot there and Nick rubbed his thumb over his cock head. It took concentration to not thrust into his touch, but he managed, bringing his moist thumb to Tony’s mouth.

“Taste me, Boy.”

Tony groaned, his eyes slipping closed. Nick jammed his thumb into Tony’s mouth, the other man’s suction pushing his arousal to another level entirely. This was what he had needed so much. This was the control, trust, and obedience that was going to heal him.

“Very good,” Nick whispered, coming up behind Tony, his thumb popping out of Tony’s mouth with an audible sound. Jethro began flicking the flogger, the tails whooshing through the air. And as Nick steadied Tony, Jethro allowed the tails to brush over one nipple, and Tony made a small noise of abject need.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Nick asked. This was Tony’s favorite way to be brought off in a scene. First Jethro would start stimulating his nipples, and then he’d come around the back. Nick unhooked Tony’s wrists. “Hands at sides, Boy.”

“Yes, Master.” Tony was quickly turning breathless, his arousal and need written all over his face. Nick nodded at Jethro as they circled Tony’s body, two men united in their love for their boy and for each other.

Nick could almost feel things sliding into place, his confidence making a full return, his love for these two men almost overwhelming in its intensity. He wanted to thank them, wanted to hold them close and never let them go. After the scene.

When Nick was in front of Tony, and Jethro behind him, both men nodded and Nick pulled out his deerskin flogger. The supple material was soft enough for Nick to effectively flog Tony’s chest or cock and balls, while Gibbs worked over his back and ass with the stronger cowhide.

Nick released the laces holding Tony’s cock captive and withdrew him from the leather prison. As expected, his cock was streaked with pre-cum, and a few moans echoed in the room, the deepest and most resonant one from Richard.

Nick gave his mentor a fond smile, his hand wrapping around Tony’s cock. “Who does this belong to?”

“You!” Tony gasped out.

“And?”

“And Master Jethro. Yours. All yours. I’m yours.”

“Always!”

“Yes, Master. Always.”

There was that catch in Tony’s voice again and Nick leaned in, kissing him tenderly even as he stroked Tony’s cock in a nearly too-tight fist. Nick abruptly released the other man—cock and mouth—and stepped back a pace, hand tightening around the flogger.

“Do you want to be flogged?” Nick asked, his voice silky smooth.

“I want whatever you wish to give me, Master!”

Nick smirked now, giving Jethro the signal to begin. With one raised eyebrow, the other man began peppering Tony’s back and leather-pants-covered ass. Tony jerked once, his hands forming into fists that never left his sides. Nick gripped his flogger in his hand and brought it down over Tony’s cock head, the barest brush of deerkin little more than a caress. It could hurt if Nick wielded it with force and precision, but he left Tony on the edge between pleasure and pain, the blows swishing across his chest, abdomen, and exposed cock and balls.

There was a cadence, a rhythm to his motions, and Nick lost himself in the sounds and smells of an aroused Tony, of the feel of the flogger in his hand and the way it sounded and felt as it hit their boy’s flesh. Nick concentrated on all of that, going deep inside himself, trusting Jethro to Master the scene and keep an eye on Tony’s limits. This level of trust and sharing between them was a living thing and Nick moaned deeply, the love for these men pushing the last puzzle piece into place inside him. He was whole again, thanks to them. Their love. He had what he always wanted, and everything else was secondary.

Tony’s growing moans pulled Nick out of his headspace, and he realized Tony was close, his face flushed, temples sweaty, body straining. Nick tossed the flogger aside and wrapped his hand around Tony’s cock, even as Jethro wrapped his arms around Tony from behind. While Jethro fondled Tony’s nipples and skimmed callused hand down his lover’s abdomen, he left Tony’s cock and balls to Nick, who shot him a grateful look over Tony’s shoulder.

“You have permission to come, Tony,” Nick told, him, quickly unbuttoning his shirt and cuffs. He wanted skin to skin contact when Tony came, even if the resulting explosion risked staining his very expensive shirt. Nick gasped when he felt a hand at his neck, easing the shirt off his shoulders. He turned, looking into Richard’s eyes, staring at the man who had made him the Dom he was today. It was particularly fitting that Richard was this close. Nick switched hands, allowing Richard to get the shirt.

The other man blew a gentle stream of air over the sensitive nape of Nick’s neck and he jerked, tugging Tony’s cock closer, trapping it between their bodies. Richard stepped away, and it was only the three of them, Tony deeply under, his cock trapped against Nick’s abdomen, Jethro grinding his erection against Tony’s ass.

“Come for us, Tony,” Jethro ordered, his voice strained. Neither of them would orgasm before Tony, or even at all during a scene, but Nick knew Jethro had to be hanging on to the ragged edge of control right alongside him.

“Master,” Tony gasped out, his voice quavering, body shaking. He stilled, eyes going wide, and then made the sweetest sound of surrender Nick had ever heard, a choked little cry as he exploded against Nick’s stomach. Nick released Tony’s cock, wet hand coming up to stroke first Tony’s then Jethro’s face as they all sank to a heap on the ground. As Nick’s eyes closed and his arms wound around Tony, faint applause rang through the room.

Nick concentrated on Tony’ breathing, keeping his eyes closed and relaxing despite the arousal zinging through him. He’d take one—or maybe even both—of them men as soon as they got home. Or maybe sooner. Limo sex had its possibilities as well, and their driver was discreet.

When a presence moved closer, disturbing the air around them, Nick’s arms tightened protectively around Tony and his eyes snapped open, just as a warm, wet cloth was pressed against his abdomen. “You’ll need to get your trousers cleaned, Nicholas, but I don’t imagine that will be a problem. Thank you for letting me watch, all of you.”

Nick looked at Richard, who was crouched next to him, the scent of the other man almost making him crazy with need. Past met present tonight, and while he appreciated the other man’s help, Nick knew they could be straying into uncomfortable territory. He took the washcloth and cleaned his abdomen off, as well as Tony’s cock.

Tony was still hard, small beads of cum oozing out to cling to the head, and he was still lost in his mind. Nick milked him twice and Tony let out a satisfied sound and snuggled in to Jethro, his hand clenching Nick’s for a moment.

“You’re beautiful, Nicholas. All of you. I’d like to see you again, if I may. Socially or…” Richard gestured around the room in an expansive gesture. “Anytime, old friend. Whatever has broken you was healed, your scars of the past as well as the recent events.”

Nick blinked a couple of times. He should have realized that with Richard’s connections, he would have wondered about the bruises, faint as they were. And he had the means and connections to discover what had happened, despite the fact that no police report had been filed. Instead of the shame that Nick had expected, he lifted his head, looking at his one-time mentor before taking in his partners.

“They healed me,” he admitted quietly. “And I’m the luckiest man alive. For the past,” he said, touching Richard’s hand. “And my future,” he added, stroking through Tony’s hair and squeezing Jethro’s biceps. He got to his feet, pulling his shirt on, then extending his hand to first Jethro, and then Tony.

“Thank you, Richard, but its time I take my boys home. It’s been a pleasure.”

“Live well, Nicholas.”

“I will. You too, Richard. I hope you can have what I’ve discovered.”

“Never take them for granted.” Richard cupped Nicholas’ cheek and he leaned into the touch.

“I won’t.”


End file.
